you sick bitch.
You make people talk themselves into ridiculous things, you make us look like assholes, you make our intelligence decrease to nothing, common sense gone and worst of all we want to hold on. For what? Pain, suffering, to tell ourselves were not good enough.
It’s always easy until you can’t control it. If you’ve been there you know what I mean.
You constantly feel or think about something, whether it be a person you love, like, or hate. You run through the situation that made you feel this way and it sticks. Like glue. Like mother, fucking glue.
Feelings, leave me alone let me be.